


A Weechester Christmas

by lilyflora25



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring John Winchester, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Good Parent John Winchester, Kid Winchesters (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyflora25/pseuds/lilyflora25
Summary: When Sammy writes to Santa asking for his Daddy to come home, Dean isn't so sure the promise can be kept. Will John come home in time? A little Christmas fluff because I love the Weechesters and while John Winchester was definitely far from perfect, I firmly believe he was at least a little bit of a softy at times.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 28





	A Weechester Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Salvation Army Kettle Campaign (the beginning) and the song When Christmas Comes to Town from The Polar Express (the rest of it). Enjoy some Weechester Christmas Fluff and Happy Holidays to all and to all a good night!

Five-year-old Sammy Winchester skipped down the street, slightly ahead of his big brother Dean, with a huge grin on his face. Today had been the last day of school before Christmas break and Sammy could hardly wait for Christmas. But, unlike other kids, Sammy wasn’t excited about the prospect of Santa Claus coming. No, Sammy was excited simply because he’d get to spend time with his brother and hopefully, his father if John made it home in time for Christmas. The two brothers walked along in companionable silence until they came upon a skinny looking Santa with a kettle, ringing a bell. Sammy stopped and looked at the Santa with curious eyes.

“Excuse me,” he asked quietly. “Why are you ringing a bell and holding a kettle?”

“Sammy,” Dean scolded gently. “Don’t bother him, he’s busy right now. Sorry, mister,”

“It’s ok, young man,” the skinny Santa Claus smiled. Then he looked down at Sammy. “I’m ringing my bell to get people’s attention. You see, I’m collecting money so that poor little kids and their mommies and daddies have a warm bed to sleep in, food in their tummies, and presents on Christmas. It’s why I have the kettle. It holds the money people donate,”

“Oh,” Sammy whispered in understanding. 

Daddy and Dean looked after Sammy and made sure he had a bed to sleep in and food in his tummy. He didn’t always have the latest toys to play with, but Sammy felt pretty lucky to have a father and a brother who loved him and cared for him. With this thought in mind, Sammy dug deep into his pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and put it in the kettle. Dean, meanwhile looked on with shock and awe. Here was his baby brother in his tattered winter coat, pithy, worn ski cap, and holey mittens, giving away his allowance to help some kid poorer than he was, if that was even possible. Dean’s eyes misted over with proud tears that he quickly wiped away.

“Come on, Sammy,” he murmured, gently taking his brother’s little hand in his own. “We need to get home,”

“Ok,” Sammy smiled at the skinny Santa and waved as the walked away. “Merry Christmas, mister!”

“Merry Christmas!” called the skinny Santa Claus.

The boys made it home to the latest motel they were holed up in, just as it was starting to snow. Dean opened the door to their room and ushered Sammy inside. He helped Sammy take off his coat and went to make dinner. Sammy kicked off his shoes, pulled out a pencil and paper from his backpack, and sat down at the table and began to write.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, looking over his shoulder while stirring mac and cheese on the stove.

“Writing my letter to Santa,” Sammy explained.

“Sammy,” Dean said gently, “You know Santa isn’t real, right?”

“He is too real!” Sammy cried. 

“No, he’s not,” Dean sighed exasperated. “He’s just a story some parents tell their kids for fun on Christmas,”

“You’re lying,” Sammy yelled at Dean, “He is too real and he’s gonna bring Daddy home for Christmas. He just has to!”

At that moment, Sammy burst out into sobs, and Dean quickly put down his spoon and went over and scooped his little brother up into a hug.

“Shh,” Dean soothed, carding his fingers through Sammy’s hair, “Don’t cry, Sammy, don’t cry. Dad will be home for Christmas, you’ll see,”

“Cause Santa’s gonna bring him, right?” Sammy hiccupped. 

“Yeah,” Dean gave in. “Santa will make him come home. You’ll see, everything’s gonna be fine. Now, let’s eat,”

Dean went back to the stove and scooped some mac and cheese into two bowls he found in the kitchen cabinets. He put the cheesy goodness in front of his little brother along with a mug. Sammy peeked inside the mug and saw a handful of tiny marshmallows.

“Hot chocolate!” the little boy squealed in delight. “Thanks Dee!”

“You’re welcome, tiger,” Dean smiled, ruffling Sammy’s hair. “Now, eat up,”

Sammy obediently started eating and before both boys knew it, they were finished eating. After watching TV for half an hour, Dean put Sammy to bed and promised to take him to the big mailbox on the corner the next day to mail his letter to Santa. As Dean climbed into bed soon after, he had a sinking feeling. What if Dad didn’t come home for Christmas? What if Sammy woke up and saw that his Daddy didn’t come home and Santa wasn’t real? 

Dean felt like an asshole for lying to his brother about Santa, but what else could he do? Sammy was crying and Dean hated it when his little brother cried. It always broke his heart to see his little brother like that. Dean went to sleep with little hope that night that he would be able to keep his promise to Sammy. 

The next day, Sammy mailed his letter and the two boys spent the next few days playing outside in the snow, making up games to play inside the motel room, and watching Christmas specials on TV. Christmas Eve snuck up on the boys before they knew it and Sammy was so excited that Dean thought his baby brother would pop. It took forever to get him to settle down in bed and even then, Dean woke up like 2 seconds later to Sammy poking at him.

“What, Sammy?” Dean groaned tiredly.

“I can’t sleep,” Sammy admitted. “I wanna wait up for Santa!”

“Sorry, tiger,” Dean yawned. “But Santa doesn’t come if you’re awake. He only comes to homes where everyone’s asleep,”

“Nuh-uh,” Sammy shook his head.

“Uh-huh,” Dean said firmly, “Now, back into bed with you. You don’t want to be cranky on Christmas, do you?

“No,” Sammy admitted. “But I still can’t sleep,”

“Come here then,” Dean ordered gently and Sammy climbed up on his brother’s bed, snuggling under Dean’s arm. 

Dean pulled his little brother close and carded his fingers softly through Sammy’s hair while he hummed a Beatles song called Hey Jude that his mother used to sing to him before bed when he was little. He smiled as Sammy’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they closed and Sammy fell asleep cuddled into his big brother. Dean kissed Sammy on top of his little head, something he didn’t really do when Sammy was awake, unless Sammy was scared, and before falling asleep himself, whispered,  
“Good night, tiger,”

The next thing Dean knew, he was being startled awake by a loud bang from outside. If the little hands clinging tighter to him were any indication, Sammy was awake too.

“Dean,” Sammy whimpered, shaking in fear as the doorknob rattled.

“Shh,” Dean hissed urgently, shoving Sammy behind him, and aiming the shotgun at the door as it opened.

A tall, dark figure entered the room and strode toward the boys, who were still huddled up in fear on the bed. Dean carefully aimed the gun and was about to pull the trigger when he heard a familiar voice say,  
“Whoa, Deano, it’s me,”

“Daddy?” both boys asked in shock.

John Winchester nodded, smiling a tired, but loving smile towards his two precious boys. He carefully removed the shotgun from Dean’s hands, and put it on the ground, but not before putting the safety back on. Then, he gently pulled both of his boys into a big, warm, bear hug, kissing the tops of both their heads.

“Shh,” John murmured. “I’m here, boys, Daddy’s here,”

The boys hugged back tightly and breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of their Daddy: old spice, gun oil, and sweat. It was Dean who broke the hug and asked,  
“What was that bang outside when you came home?”

“I banged into the someone’s trash can,” John admitted sheepishly, “Goddamn raccoon popped up from behind the car and startled me,”

Both boys giggled at this and John raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” John scolded, “I’ll show you funny!”

To say the boys were shocked was an understatement as John’s face broke out into a wide grin and the father scooped up his sons and tickled them until they couldn’t breathe.

“Ok, time to settle down and go back to sleep,” John ordered firmly, “It’s three o’clock in the morning,”

“Daddy?” Sammy asked quietly, “Can we stay with you?”

John smiled tiredly, and said,  
“Oh, alright, seeing as it’s Christmas and all,”

Both boys smiled contentedly as they snuggled into either side of their father. John was out like a light and snoring like a bear when Sammy whispered to Dean,  
“I told you Santa was real!”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean smiled sleepily, “You were right,”

And as the Winchester brothers fell asleep, Dean couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have his family safe at home with him, Santa or no Santa.


End file.
